I thought I knew myself.I thought I knew the man I was becoming. I had no idea life could disfigure a person so suddenly into something unrecognizable.
As I step into view of the man who kidnapped my brother and take in the bucket and mop standing in the middle of a large patch of red-stained concrete, a chilling savagery slows my heartbeat and stills my mind. All thoughts of calling the police have evaporated.
“Where’s my brother?” My menacing words bring the man to a stop. Again, he blanches at the sight of me, as if he’s seen a ghost.
He shakes his head and returns to pulling at his hair, muttering, “Two of them … not one … two … killed him … then he was gone … but not him … now he’s back…” His frantic ramblings grow more panicked with every second.
My brain picks apart every word. Every movement.
Calculating.
Assessing.
“Did you kill my brother?” I stalk closer, the heavy wrench gripped firmly in my hand.
The man’s wide eyes cut to a knife on the floor. It’s caked in dried blood. My muscles ready to lunge. Should he indicate a move in that direction, we’re each a dozen paces from where it lies, but he looks back at me, instead.
“I … I would never…”
“Then who?” I demand, my booming voice echoing from the rafters.
The pathetic shadow of a man flinches. “I was only following orders. He’s the one … he did it. Not me.”
“Tell me his name.”
“I can’t.” He shakes his head in rapid, jerky movements. “I’ll never see the light of day again.”
Fury pumps liquid violence into my veins. “You don’t tell me his name, and you’ll never breathe again.” I raise my hand with the wrench in emphasis of my snarled threat. “What’s his name, andwhere the fuck is my brother?” I roar.
Time stretches thin, then slingshots forward when the man suddenly dashes for the knife. I launch into motion as well, but I’m not after the knife.
I already have a weapon.
When he tosses himself to the ground to grab the knife, I swing the wrench with all my might.
Not at his hand to disarm him.
Not at his ribs to wind him.
I aim for his head with only death in mind. I’m blind with rage.
This man took my brother. He’s just as much a part of this as whoever it is he’s working for. Both of them will pay with their lives.
I swear it.
My chest heaves with heavy breaths as I stand and survey the result of my actions. A man not much older than me, his face now smooth and serene, lies unmoving on the floor. Blood pools beneath his head.
Is that how Elio looked on this same floor?
My stomach rebels, spasming violently. I bend and retch. I haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, so the heaving only results in saliva and bile.
When I’m in control of my faculties again, I check the man for a pulse.
Nothing.
He’s dead.
I killed him, and I don’t have it in me to panic about the consequences because all that matters is Elio. My brother is gone. The very best part of my world.
